


What We Seem

by Wristic



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, and a lot of it, poor insecure baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wristic/pseuds/Wristic
Summary: You and Ivar have been married for two years and have barely touched each other, barely even glanced at one another. You’re both very different at heart, you so utterly submissive and quiet and he can’t help but think it’s his failure as a man. But tonight he’s frustrated more than usual, in a way that he desperately needs something ANYTHING from you, as intimidating a thought that is.





	1. Chapter 1

There was nothing more frustrating than watching, but what else could he do.

Ivar stood outside Hvitserk’s tent, relaxed against the pillar to ease off pushing his weight on the cane all day, watching through a sliver between the curtains, a woman with her legs wide open mewling and whimpering not on his cock, but his brothers mouth that pleased her.

He’d seen Hvitserk spend his time on his knees before a woman many times, but never at such a clear angle. Watching his brothers thumbs spreading the lips wide, his tongue lapping, flicking, cheeks hollowing as his sucked on her. The skin around his mouth glistened in a wetness that bathed her cunt, spilled from her when her body shook and her moans turned to screams.

It frustrated him. Ivar taking a deep breath to ease the tension the sight caused. The woman thrashing in ecstasy, the sounds both she and Hvitserk made, the sex between her legs so exposed and worshiped. Looking away, down the path to his own tent, Ivar had a woman of his own.

Kind of.

You and him had married for the politics of war almost two years ago. He did his best to take you the night of consummation and while you didn’t bawl and tremble in horror like Margrethe, your silence and uncomfortable grunts were enough to know he failed. That he always would. So he kept his distance, let the bed fall cold every night, the conversations stale when he didn’t snap at you to not even try. You were this mousy quiet thing, wide eyed in innocence even after he took you. Then again he hadn’t really made you a woman had he? 

Sighing, Ivar glanced in to see Hvitserk’s fingers pumping fast, deep within his tryst, smiling down at her as she arched her back and writhed.

Lifting himself from the beam, Ivar was quiet to shuffle away, the scene running in his head, pulsing down his front, his tongue gliding on the roof of his mouth in curiosity. When he got to his personal tent, unsurprisingly, you were still up. Since taking an interest in learning how to read Saxon you piled yourself under their books. You never told him what you read, instead like now, gave him an acknowledging gaze from the bed before submissively turning back to the leather bound bundle of papers.

He made his way around, seeing the indent of your legs crossed under the blankets, wide if not for your feet in the way, wide like Hvitserk’s woman spread her legs. As Ivar undid his clothes he couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like to touch a woman like that, what it tasted like, what it looked like from that angle. It was enticing so far away, what could it be like to be apart of it?

Ivar sat on the edge of the bed to fiddle with his boots and bracers that helped him stand. Once off he ran his hands down his cloth covered legs, free from constraints at least and thrumming with an anticipating energy. Slowly he looked to you, and you glanced to him, going tense the longer he didn’t move.

He didn’t do it roughly, pulling back the blanket from you, and yet you still snapped your legs up, tilting them away from his sight. Due to your dress bunched up he could see the bare underside of your hips, your ankles hiding the part he wanted to see.

It was irritating. He never wanted anything from you, was one night really asking for so much.

“Open your legs.”

The blink you gave was wide and utterly surprised by his order. You tensed so hard your back straighten, your book coming to your chest like a wall. “Wha-what-”

“I said, open your legs.” Instead of answering in any way you looked him up and down, trying to figure him out. “I will not ask again, wife.” Still, you didn’t move.

Ivar gripped your ankle and ripped one leg down along with half your body, tossing the limb to the side. Clearly he frightened you then. You were unable to look at him, a small tremble as you adjusted, setting down the book and the other leg hesitantly sliding toward him, the knees bent in still meaning to hide yourself. Carelessly he smack one out of the way, you shifting like you might somehow escape his reach as he leaned down on his stomach, forcing your legs wider with his broad shoulders. The nightgown shadowed most of you, Ivar bunching it and lifting, “Take this off.”

Shooting a glance at the exit, you gulped before taking the ends, dragging them up over your head. The way the firelight glowed your skin, the curves and soft mounds revealed, he tried not to sigh the squeeze it caused in his chest. Two years and he rarely saw you naked, half the time on accident. As he licked his lips he wondered why. It could always be this easy, you always avoided fighting by doing as you were told.

Eyes dragging down your form, he came back to his original interest, the patch of curls between women’s leg he wanted to get better acquainted with. Adjusting to get more comfortable, his mouth watered slightly remembering how wet the woman had been, now catching a hint of the scent that would linger on his brothers sometimes. Avoiding looking up at you, wanting to prolong any knowledge of your rejection for as long as he could, Ivar brought up his hand, running a thumb up the slightly parted slit.

The lips were soft among the curls, the slightly damp flesh underneath warmer than the outside, a bump amidst it catching his interest, rolling it under his thumb. Your legs started to twitch in, taking his space. 

Agitated from distracting him, Ivar slapped the inside of your thigh, you flinching hard with a small squeak to match the sharp sound. “Do not move and shut up.” He ordered.

Your chest was rising and falling faster but the breath was silent, your legs shuddering but stalwart in their position as two of his fingers roamed. Roamed every inch, every corner, silky and smooth through every lip, growing slicker in every stride. He didn’t know what exactly caused the wetness, part of him was reserved to believe it just did that when being touched, but it never did that for him before. As he explored his head began to drift against your thigh, resting there as he lazily found the center that could give way.

Pressing one finger through the breach that almost felt like it would clamp shut on him, it didn’t, enveloping his finger in a velvety warmth and coating his finger in that slick. Again he couldn’t remember having it feel so wet when he entered a woman with his manhood, making him wonder just what the difference was suppose to be. He experimented in pulling in and out, fascinated as he watched his finger being held and tugged, biting his lip as he tried imagining if it could just feel like this around his cock just once. Pressing in as far as he could, the tip of his finger stroked against the walls.

A loud, almost impatient sounding sigh left you catching his attention. Glancing up your eyes were closed, mouth slack and lips dry from your heavy breathing, body shaking in tune with his toying. He pulled out and pressed in deep again, watching your body seize and your eyes screw shut, trying so desperately to be quiet and not move.

A smile started to grow on him as Ivar started pumping faster, you shaking more and more, biting and pulling in your lips the harder you fought. The upper part of your body started trying to curl in where your legs and hips couldn’t, the firelight dancing off you as you writhed for him yet tried to follow his order.

In an instant he stopped and pulled his fingers out. All tension spilled from you as you panted and slowly opened your eyes to him. Finally looking at each other, _really_ looking each other. You watched him in an equal fascination, propped up on your arms, breath short but muscles lazy. You weren’t frightened, you were in anticipation.

“You like that?” His directed with his eyes as his fingers pressed to your breach, slipping in, filling you again and your hips rolled to meet his knuckles rutting on the outside, you nodding frantically.

“C-can I move?”

His smile could fill the room, “Yes you can move.”

At once you dropped on your back, legs opening wider, begging him to fill you more than he already was. The wanton display stirred Ivar more than he thought possible, his cock stiff as he ground it into the bed, groaning. Looking back at his work he pumped you fast, the slick making it so easy and you felt so loose, ready for something so much thicker.

The sounds that left you tormented him, so strangled and withheld, covering your mouth to take a cry back to a hum. They were approving sounds. Pleasured sounds. And yet you tried so hard to keep them from him. Keep everyone else from knowing what he could do for you.

For a moment the resentful thoughts, all thoughts, ebbed away when he pulled his fingers out to look at them, the liquid coating down his hand, glittering in the light. He did this. He could do this. He could do it again, please you into soaking not just you but him in arousal. Ivar lifted both fingers into his mouth, placing them back as far as he could and slowly dragging them out as he sucked and licked them clean.

Ivar heard your open-mouth moan and he looked to see you watching, utterly captivated by him loving your taste so. The smile returned to him as he quickly dipped down to flick his tongue on you, you jolting and sucking in a sharp breath. Toyingly he did it again and again, bottom to top, watching the way you melted more and more under his tongue.

Hands shifting and clenching, legs trembling, you gave him the most beautiful beg he’d ever heard, “ _Ivar~_.”

“Is this what you want?” He teased, sliding up and down the length of you, the lips warm and thick around his tongue, the taste taunting him just as much.

Your hand resisted shooting up and grabbing him and instead fell on your thigh, nails digging into the skin in frustration. “Y-yes please, I want that husband, I want that.”

His ears perked at the little title, one you only used when you wanted his attention and he was willfully ignoring you. It caused a deep laugh in him as he pressed his open mouth to your sex, you crying out and the hand finally falling into his braids, holding him against your lap as your hips rolled against his rutting and sucking.

He moaned feeling the desperation in your hold, your legs fighting to open up but also hug him close, talking more to him than you ever had in two years, “Oh yes! Oh what are  _doing_ it feels  _so good_! Ivar,  _Ivar_ -”

The sound of his name followed by the high shout loud enough to push past the walls and the surrounding tents shook him with a sudden wave of ecstasy. Hastily he freed himself, gripping his twitching shaft and his hips bucking at the contact. He ran a thumb over the head, smearing the wet bead of his own wanting around before tugging himself in a fit for ease.

The shout you gave seemed to embarrass you however, covering your mouth and trying so hard to remain quiet like before. Ivar rose to his elbow, his mouth sucking and licking and kissing what he ached to not leave. Having a moment’s fill he rose on top of you, still pumping his cock when he grabbed your chin and pulled you mouth open, eyes locked on yours when they met.

“You want me to keep going?” Your hips rolled in need, the tip of his head tapping on the soaking wet heat of your core below him, tempting him to bend down and fill you in one long stride. But the thought threatened to sour his mood, Ivar feeling threatened he would sour everything if he tried. No, he’d keep to this magic for now. “I want to hear it. I want to hear every scream that fights to leave your lips. Every whimper, every beg and moan. I want to hear how much you want this. I want the whole fucking camp to hear how good it feels.”

Your eyes rolled back at the demand, whimpering, “Ivar,  _please_ , fill me up. I want to feel you in me.”

He gulped, both at the sight and the request. Suddenly having a hard time looking at you directly he swung himself back down, back between your legs, his mouth on you again where he could safely know what you liked. Yet you still begged for him. “Please Ivar! I want to feel you stretching and hitting the end of me!”

No, no, no, he didn’t want to do that. He couldn’t risk it, not with such a show under his control and so utterly ruining him. Though Ivar didn’t know how much longer he had control over himself, bucking hard into his hand, gasping into your sex before dropping his head on your thigh, watching his free fingers tease your lips before thrusting in you. Both hands pumped in time, the one in you continuously losing pace as the knot up his spine grew and all his senses were ablaze.

You were still panting sharply, cooing his name, your fingers petting the shaved sides of his head and he came undone. Gripping your thigh with his wet hamd, your fingers slipped under his and he held it in a crushing grip, grunting and gasping in the crook of your leg.

He didn’t care for the spill under him, crumbling as the orgasm left him dizzy in a way it never had before. The soft skin of your leg taunted him, leaving warm kisses where his lips could reach, inching closer back to your still eager clit.

Ivar continued to play with you. Until his tongue and jaw hurt, till you were begging him you couldn’t take anymore, till he knew every angle and motion that got you screaming just the way he loved.

Come morning, more like the afternoon, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Ivar felt his ego soar every time he caught you staring at him from across the field and your eyes held, grinning wider at him or biting your lip. He saw a _woman_ in the way your hips swayed under his heady gaze, in how close you sat next to him, kissed him without so much hesitation, now giving him an eye of request before he hungrily took your lips and you returned the eagerness.


	2. Chapter 2

So many times had he imagined the things he wanted to do with a woman, not all brash and splashing with hot sex. Right now was something he often craved, this silence in the room, resting his head on your back, both of you freshly bathed and his hair free while his hand caressed your backside, his fingers following all the stretched tears that adorned the skin along your hips and thighs. He liked playing with them, reminding him of beasts with stripes in their fur. You were reading, the only sound coming from you the flip of a page and you were calm, so completely tolerant to his touch.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“Hm?”

Ivar couldn’t stop the half smile as with every time you read, the first words and the goings on around you were lost. “I have always wanted to touch a woman like this.” his fingers curled around your rump down the seam of you, diving deep until your hips rolled a little at the contact. His hand slid back up, the tips of his fingers damp and making him thirsty.

“I have a hard time believing you never have.” You teased, shaking your hips at him as Ivar eagerly gripped a handful and shook it.

“I have had a lot of time to daydream.” He sighed, running his down your sex again, finding it wetter than it was before.

“I always thought…” You never finished the thought, flipping through a page and incredibly tense under him.

Lazily lifting his head and looking toward the front of you, he asked, “Always thought what?”

“N-nothing. It was stupid.”

Running his hand up your back, Ivar knew you still feared him, his affection could only go so far. You were strangers sleeping in the same bed for so long. Crawling up, rolling onto his back to look at you, he inched himself into your vision. You nervously bit your lip, finding his gentle smile reassuring under you as he whispered, gently brushing his fingers up your propped forearm, “Tell me.”

“Ivar,” Your sigh was strangled, “everyone knows you don’t want this marriage. You’ve been practically screaming it to anyone who will listen for the past two years.”

The sudden shame was overwhelming, like a dam breaking. He’d somehow forgotten his constant complaining and repulsion for anyone to be near him ever again. Ivar had forsworn those kinds of relationships yet his brothers wouldn’t let up that he was the one who needed to do the marriage. Your father saw something in him and wouldn’t marry you to anyone else but the Leader of The Heathen Army. It never had anything to do with you, not really, but you still received every punishment for it. How cruel it all must have been to endure. Yet you weren’t accusing him or looking for an apology. You mumbled in a way to comfort him. “It is not like anyone can blame you. There isn’t much to me.”

His hands sought you quickly, “It had nothing to do with you-”

“N-no, I know I am not strong enough to be a warrior, or smart enough to be a politician, or pretty enough to charm anyone-”

“(Y/N),” He whispered, petting your hair back to calm you, the book starting to fall limply with your gloom. “It was not like that I swear. It… I know I made it sound like…” He shook his head at himself. “It was not you.”

Putting the book on the nightstand you asked, a hint of uncertainty if you should. “Than what was it?”

Slowly his hands withdrew from you, his fingers itching as Ivar avoided looking at you. He didn’t want to say, he hated saying it, he hated looking down at all and hated more the reminder of what he couldn’t do. Grinding his teeth he finally murmured, doing everything he could to keep the stress subdued. You deserved to know, especially with all you had to put up with. “My legs are not the only things that don’t work.”

The tent was silent, you taking it in he was sure, mauling it over, growing more and more disappointed by never having children and never experiencing love making the way people were suppose to.

Yet when he found you, he snapped back to find your eyes squinted tightly in suspicion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Practically offended he gasped, “What do you mean,  _that doesn’t make any sense_!?”

Your eyes motioned below his belt, “I have never seen you have a problem.”

Sitting up in a rush, Ivar accused you, “What about our wedding night?! You can’t tell me you enjoyed it!”

Rolling to your side to better look at him, not seeming to notice his eyes dodge along your naked body, you accused him right back, “Maybe I would have if you touched me at all! You barely even let me kiss you at our ceremony!”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to! You have never exactly been the most responsive!”

“You were telling everyone I was worthless to you and that you didn’t understand why you had to marry me!”

“Technically you  _are_ worth-!” his lips jumped between his teeth, knowing that was way too far no matter how thoughtless it had slipped. Ivar wasn’t talking about you as a person, just that sex and love were not viable for him. Oh but you wouldn’t take it that way. He certainly wouldn’t of. 

However, unlike all the times before, you didn’t wilt and leave. Your glare was very real on him, the first of its kind and it was doing things to him, jumping a flush of heat under his skin. “I-I didn’t mean that-”

You jumped up on your knees, and when you simply stopped there he knew he was really in for it. “The whole reason I learned to read was  _for you_!” You snapped, his heart jumping at the proclamation. “People don’t think much of me in the first place and while I settled I wasn’t a woman you dreamed of marrying, I thought I could at least make myself useful and learn to read for you, to uncover the enemies secrets and their maps, maybe write if needed! And… okay, maybe I didn’t tell you because I never found any such things and instead took all the books about legends and history but it’s not like you ever would have listened to me anyway! You just hated me and I didn’t understand why!” Ivar was shock still, unsure how to react at the idea someone was actually trying to impress him. “But now you’re telling me nothing I ever could have done would have changed your hatred toward me, because the whole reason for it was because you thought I would  _judge_ you?!”

Ivar hated feeling timid, but as he looked down at his pants, running his hands on his skinny legs, though not as skinny as they once were, he didn’t have much to say. “Everybody does.”

You scoffed, the heat in you dwindling enough to sit back on your feet. “You couldn’t even give me a chance before tearing into me night and day!? I like to think I’ve proven to be a very nice and  _especially patient_  person! Even if it didn’t work I would have treated you with the respect my husband would deserve! I would have lived with it, we would have found our ways like we have now that you’ve stopped being a complete  _asshole_!”

A smile cracked on him that he couldn’t stop, but you were still glaring. “Go ahead and laugh but I can’t count how many times I’ve cried while you slept.”

His shocked eyes only held on you a moment, finding the pain and truth there unbearable to acknowledge. Again he was feeling small, regretting asking you to elaborate at all. The tent was quiet and awkward now, him too inappropriate to touch you like he wanted. Cautiously he chanced another look, finding all the anger having dwindled, looking off and looking cold and lonely. 

Experimentally, Ivar held his hand out to you, motioning for you to come out from behind your walls and take it. You gave him a little glare, Ivar offering a small grin again, motioning for you to come to him. 

Huffing, you dropped your hand into his, letting him lead you to his side. Once close enough he held you against his chest, tightly cradling you, and despite the still anxious racing of his heart from being forced to look at his crimes, it felt warm being allowed to do this. “I’m sorry.” He whispered down to you, “You’re right, about everything. I never gave you a chance and because of that you have suffered, and you have done it so quietly. I should appreciate the strength it took to not kill me in my sleep.”

You tried to hold back a smile, it fading into shame as you mumbled, “There isn’t much to appreciate in being too cowardly to stand up for myself.”

“People who stand up to me tend to end up dead so… it was more smart than anything.” he shook you a little, ushering that smile he was getting to see more and more, despite the dark truth underneath what he said.

A bloom of pride filled him when you looked to him and there wasn’t any fear or anger there, embarking on extending the tease. “Was? What will you do to me now that I have?

“Mm, punishment clearly. Can’t have the men thinking you can just talk back to me.” he leaned in toward you with a devious smile, you already submitting into the bed with a giggle as Ivar pulled himself on top of you.

The kisses were lazy, dragging lips slowly on one another more to savor the touch and the taste. Your hands ran along his chest, down his stomach, in lazy circles on his sides and up his back, until they started to toy low between you and him, teasing the rim of his trousers. A sigh escaped Ivar with your caress, but at the same time it tugged on his nerves, his anxiety about the whole prospect.

Gently Ivar grabbed your hand and brought it back up to his chest. You ran your thumb there on the soft skin, his breath hitching when your teeth accidentally scraped his lip. His hand distracted itself with brushing your face, deepening the kiss, yet your fingers began to drift again. As soon as they reached the fabric he gave an impatient grunt, grabbed your hand back and pulled it high on his chest, losing all his concentration in enjoying the make out.

He read it all in your eyes as he stopped to give you a warning glare, you didn’t understand it, nor were you confident enough to go into arguing it. Gulping down your cowardice, you played along his collarbone and whispered, “You know it started to feel good at the end. I’ve felt rather empty since…” Ivar’s throat was too tight to answer, tensing when you told him something no one ever had before, “I want to touch you.”

Ivar’s jaw stiffened, the corner of it pulsing before taking your hand from him and pressing it above your head, grinding his hip into yours. The weight he used to keep it there was not lost on you and yet your eyes held onto their cloud of lust, making a hungering smirk grow on him, confident he could make you forget what you thought you wanted. Combing his long hair out of the way and to the side be bent tauntingly close, “Why don’t I touch you instead?”

Taking your neck with his mouth, near biting it you gave him a small high moan, your fingers curling down his knuckles in the tension boiling in you. Trailing his fingers down your arm, Ivar found the bed and started pushing himself lower, kissing along your body. As he reached the tender skin of your belly you spoke, a hint of uncertainty about you. “Is it not a wife’s duty to please her husband?”

Without missing a beat he answered, breathless as he ran his hands back up your sides, “Touching you does please me.”

Biting your lip, you shifted to look at him. “But you are not curious?” A pause in him came and Ivar knew he’d regret giving it to you. His fingers petting your waist as he did imagine, often, what it might be like to have your mouth on him. Playing in your hair while you took him in until your nose brushed his skin, watching himself spill on your tongue. “I am.” You sweetly admitted. “I wonder often if I can please you the way you do me.”

Sitting up on your elbow, your other hand combed through his hair, him giving you a terse but verging on defeated look before closing his eyes and taking the affection. “Come back up here, you can always tell me to stop.” Even he knew the irony in that statement, how he never gave you that same option.

Slowly his eyes opened, looking distant and vulnerable as the combing eased away some of his more wayward fears. His hand ran down to the sex so splayed out before him, teasing a finger between the wet folds before huffing, pulling himself back up beside you. As he laid down you tried kissing him again, but Ivar was behaving in a way everyone liked to call pouty. Not distant, more spitefully unresponsive.

You didn’t seem to pay any mind to it, used to it more than anything, scooting down the length of him, bringing your face close to his stomach. Ivar tensed to feel your hot breath ghosting his skin before lavishing the area in heated kisses, feeling your tongue roll on occasion and send the nerves around the area in a blaze, such a slick touch they’ve never received.

As you came to the rim he was so hesitant to let your hands near, but you slipped your tongue into the kiss and his chest puffed at the wet contact, forgetting a moment why he was so nervous.  

You’d never seen his legs. The one time you almost did you walked in on him bathing and he wouldn’t so much as let you sleep in your own tent with him for a week. His heart sank at the memory, feeling wrong though you made due just fine asking the slaves and soldiers to set something up for you. Why you never stayed in that separate tent and give up braving him was a mystery, the guilt souring the mood and edging him to feeling insecure again.

As your fingers pulled on the tie both his hands jumped up but he tried to quell the panic, resting them on his chest and stomach instead.They both fisted as you undid the ties, and in one tug he jolted up, you quick to try and reassure him, “I won’t take them off-”

Ivar grabbed your wrists, his voice shaking, “This was a bad idea-”

Sitting up, meeting him directly in the face though his anguished eyes refused to meet you, you whispered so he’d be forced to calm down and listen. “It is alright.” he shook his head. “ _Please,_ just give me a chance. I’m not taking them off.”

As rigid as he was, you kissed his cheek, kept kissing around the side of his face until some of his tension eased. He wanted to offer that chance, but if you rejected him or he failed again, Ivar didn’t know if he could bare failing a second time.

Politely you offering, “Perhaps you’ll show me how far you can let me go?”

He thought about it, feeling safer in the option, again remembering he never gave such options to you and he couldn’t imagine how terrifying he must be to force all these things on you while you clearly had insecurities of your own. You could be so cruel to him if you wanted right now, you deserved to lay down your own cruelty, but you didn’t. You pulled back enough to give him room, watching him patiently as Ivar wrestled up some courage. Without looking at you, he pulled at the ends with the loose tie, edging them apart before hooking his thumbs, dragging them along the sides and forcing the pants down a few inches. While he wanted to keep being nervous about what you saw, you were gazing down his body, dragging your lip from your teeth as your hand slipped down his chest.

His breath caught in his throat as your palm petted down his exposed length, your fingers trailing lightly behind it, the sensation of tickling toward the tip helping him breath again. Your hand may have been a bit cold but it was impossibly soft, bereft of ever holding a weapon or shield. Ivar didn’t honestly imagine it to feel different from his own hand but it was  _entirely_. Seeing your eyes on him, knowing your hand was the one stroking and pulling him stiff, it was intoxicating.

Raising a hand to your shoulder, gliding to your cheek, and the look you gave him when your eyes met Ivar was positively sultry. It pulled a smile from his lips, a sigh escaping him as you held him a little tighter, stroking a little faster as his cock pulsed into standing.

“I’m not squeezing too hard am I?”

Ivar was breathless, shaking his head. “No.” He couldn’t keep holding himself up, leaning back onto his elbows and watched your every expression for the slightest hint you’d lost interest or found something horrific. You licked your lips and his shaft jumped, making you smile.

Adjusting your hair with your free hand, you bent down almost too fast, startling Ivar before his whole body tensed in the heat of your mouth. He understood perfectly now your urge to cover your mouth as a pathetic whimper escaped him, gasping as you pushed him as far back as you could before hitting a small barrier.

Such small amount of contact yet he could hardly control himself, his hand falling on your head and his hips rolling for more, stuttering as he pulled back. It made him smile to see a smirk on you as you released him, so proud of yourself for ruining him in one suck. But it wasn’t just that, you licked up his length, toyed with his head, taunting him was what you were doing and seeing you enjoy pleasing him only aroused him more.

After he was good and soaked by your tongue, you took him back in, Ivar’s grip somehow feeling both relaxed and tight as you bobbed lightly. He even felt of his knees jump in the mixed tension, feeling it build as he did everything he could to not buck up and yet the restraint was useless. 

Brushing back your hair and holding it, Ivar watched himself fill and leave your mouth, a portion of him unable to go back further. It was enough as your hands came up, feeling like you were trying to tug him deeper.

It didn’t occur to him to talk, he could hardly breath, but he remembered the way you begged him and how good it felt to be wanted. Adjusting as best he could, his arm for all it’s strength shaky with the barrage of ecstasy you sucked on his cock, licking his lips Ivar rasped, “You look so beautiful like this.”

You moaned, him feeling the vibrations up his front and bucking as you took him faster, suddenly more eager to please him. Catching a few loose strands of your hair he cooed, “Do you like having me like this?” Your eyes opened and looked up at him, making him shudder, “It feels so fucking good, no one has ever made me feel like this.”

This time you almost whimpered on his cock, your hips swaying in a way he’d come to recognize as arousal. He chuckled, throwing his head back before coming back to taunt you. “You like that? Being the only one?” Surprising him, you nodded, humming in approval. “Oh that’s it wife, my wife, my only one, don’t stop.”

Your hands roamed his hips and up his chest, affectionately grabbing for more of him. Even just saying the words, having you react to his praise, every quick beat of his heart was sending another wave of ecstasy. “Yes-, you are-you’re so good at this I- _ah_ -” he didn’t even know what he was going to say anymore, a sting of open moans spilling from his throat as his hips bucked out of his control, the euphoria building up to the point it could hurt to refuse it any longer. He cried out, every muscle tensing, tingling in a way it never had before as he felt his heat filling your mouth, dripping past your lips and down his shaft as white blinded behind his eyelids.

You withdrew slowly after he calmed down, Ivar panting with his hand slipping from your hair. He stuttered at the shifting contact, too sensitive to handle the slightest movement. Lazily he watched you clean up yourself, using a stray blanket to wipe down your mouth before looking to him, smiling adorably as you saw how consumed and dizzy he was still in the remnants of his orgasm.

Tossing a leg over his hip you crawled on top of him, your bare body resting all along his and warming him up inside and out. Bringing his arms up he held you tightly, turning his face into your neck and breathing you in. His senses were still overwhelmed, stroking your back and kissing randomly on what skin his lips could reach. He whispered near your ear, “I’ll get better at that, I promise.”

He felt your scoff. “Get better at what?”

“I-I didn’t last very long.”

With a snicker you lifted and kissed his lips, “It just means I’m amazing.”

You both chuckled, “If you want to take it that way… well, you are not wrong.” Laughing again he couldn’t stop lavishing you in kisses, his body so heavy and lazy, not quite ready to do all the things he was still thinking of. A small break couldn’t hurt.

“Do you want to tell me about those stories you have been reading?” He asked.

You sprung up, damn near scaring the crap out of him, but there was such exhilaration in your eyes he had to smile. “YES!”


End file.
